Page 98 of Miss Flibbertigibbet and the Barbarian
Sure enough, beneath her, his muscles bunched and fluidly stretched as he picked up speed, and she panicked. “No!Stop!”
She hauled on the single rein, but the horse had the wall in his sights. She would have as much chance of stopping a runaway locomotive with a ribbon.
Then she felt the horse gather himself, and with a desperate shriek, she wound her fingers in his thick mane and clutched tight.
For the first time in years, she squeezed her eyes shut as they soared.
The Barbarian came down smoothly.
She didn’t.
With no stirrups to anchor her, she rose free of his back and came down off-center with jarring force. Despite her frantic grip on his mane, she went sliding sideways, and then she was flying over his shoulder.
The ground rushed toward her far faster than she’d expected, then the whole world turned black.
* * *
Nicholas trudged out of the treed dip he’d just finished searching to no avail. Stepping up to level ground, facing the now-distant church, he scanned the sky. Twilight had arrived, and the shadows were deepening into the dark of encroaching night. He estimated there was less than an hour to full dark.
Grimacing, he accepted that, empty-handed—or rather, horseless—though he was, he needed to return to the church. The others would be gathering there. He’d heard no calls for help and had heard and seen nothing to suggest that the horse had been found.
Looking to his left, he surveyed the fields through which Adriana and Dickie had been searching. In the distance, he spotted Dickie heading toward the church, also with no horse.
Nicholas studied the nearer fields, the ones Adriana had been quartering. Field by field, he scanned all the way to the church, but found no sign of her.
Perhaps she’d already gone back? He could see people milling near the church wall, but at this distance, couldn’t make out who they were. Yet if anyone was going to be the last to return, to be the one who searched most diligently for as long as she possibly could, he would wager it would be Adriana. She wouldn’t have given up yet.
She hadn’t called out—or rather, he hadn’t heard her call. While he’d been searching in the dip, he’d realized his ability to hear the bleating of the sheep in the pasture above had diminished to almost zero.
If Adriana had called, would he have heard?
He had no option but to look for her. He wouldn’t be able to think of anything else—of what they might try next—until he knew she was safe.
Telling himself that she was simply searching until the last possible minute, he clambered over a wall and, after confirming she wasn’t anywhere between where he now was and the church, he turned and started walking in what he hoped was the direction she’d taken.
He crossed one field, scanning as he went, then clambered over a stile and dropped into the next field, only to find a flock of black-faced sheep clustering in the nearest corner.
Puzzled, he studied them. The group was pushing close together, as sheep did when spooked.
He wondered what had frightened them. Slowly, eyes narrowed the better to pierce the gloom, he scanned the gently sloping field—and saw The Barbarian.
The stallion was standing with his head down a little way inside the gate in the far corner of the field.
Relieved on one score, still concerned on the other, Nicholas walked toward the horse. He had no idea if the stallion would remember him well enough not to bolt.
He was still twenty yards away when he realized the horse was nudging at something on the ground…
His eyes focused on a crumpled mass of teal velvet. Of their own accord, his feet slowed.
“No!” The denial burst from him, and then he was racing, uncaring of whether he spooked the horse or not.
He fell to his knees beside the velvet mound. “Adriana!” The anguish pouring through him filled the single word.
Frantically, he searched at her throat for a pulse and found her heart beating steadily and strongly. The beat echoed inside him, a fundamental reassurance.
He reminded himself he’d seen countless men thrown from horses, yet none had died.
She was lying partially on her side, her arms lax, her legs tangled in her skirts. Her riding hat was still on her head.
